


Clutter

by InfinitiveSplitter



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Closeted John Watson, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sherlock Holmes, Fluff, M/M, Past Drug Use, Protective John, Sherlock's Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 06:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfinitiveSplitter/pseuds/InfinitiveSplitter
Summary: After John's suggestion of moving from 221B to a more spacious home, Sherlock's immediate objection to it raises some questions.





	Clutter

John stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips, looking round at all the experiments in the kitchen; the bag of thumbs resting on top of his favorite jumper; the sprawled out detective on the sofa. Just as the sigh had left his lips, Sherlock's eyes snapped open.

"What is it, John?" he said impatiently with a sprinkle of irritation.

John frowned. "I didn't say anything".

"You didn't have to. You were doing that annoying "hands on hips" pose. You only do that when you're deep in thought - a rare occasion".

John ignored the last comment, a skill anyone would no doubt acquire being Sherlock's roommate. John hated the fact he was, actually, in deep thought. He thought about the endless piles of clutter and body parts and how much easier it would be to live in a bigger space. His only hesitation on voicing his ideas was Sherlock's reactions. Every time he even so much as hinted at the idea of moving, Sherlock had strung out a stubborn "no" in which there was no room for movement on the subject. 

Today, however, John had had enough and decided to get an understanding as to why Sherlock was being so difficult about it. Well, more so than usual.

"Wouldn't it-"

"No" Sherlock said, cutting him off.

John sighed but started again. "Wouldn't it be nicer to live in a bigger space? Maybe a building with fewer stairs- I'm not getting any younger. An area with more crime, perhaps?" John suggested, trying to appeal to Sherlock's better nature. This time, however, Sherlock looked a bit...deflated?

Sherlock sighed before answering with a quiet "John. No". 

John was a bit thrown off by the sad look on his face. He was ready, sword out, gun loaded, to go into this battle. He did not expect his opposition to be so...vulnerable. John's hands dropped from his hips to dangle at his sides, unsure about what to do. Making his decision, he walked with purpose towards the sofa. He tapped Sherlock's ankle in lieu of an impolite "move". Sherlock sat up and twisted his body around, allowing space for John to sit, before elegantly adjusting his dressing gown and ruffling his curls.

John tried to hide the smile on his face as he thought about how much Sherlock reminded him of a big cat. His smile quickly dissipated as he saw Sherlock's head hang low, his fingers fidgeting with each other- an unnatural look for the detective. John was overcome by the need to protect Sherlock, make him his old arrogant, irritating, fantastic self again.

"Why not, Sherlock? Talk to me" John encouraged, using a soft tone to calm him down. "I don't really...talk about it, John" Sherlock replied, head still angled to the floor. "Now seems like a good time to start, Love" John said with a soft smile. Inside he was jumping around, high on the thrill of actually getting something out of Sherlock.

"Well, as you already know. I was... a user. Of drugs, I mean" he started, taking his time to breath. John didn't realize he had started stroking Sherlock's back soothingly. "I hated myself...so much. I decided my family shouldn't have to of seen me when I was like that so I... so I ran away. I didn't have anywhere or anyone to run to so I...stayed on the streets, drug dens more specifically. My-" Sherlock broke off for a second, trying to hold his emotions in check and not cry (something John should tell him off for doing but he's not exactly innocent of it himself). Instead, John offered a whispered "It's alright. You're doing well".

Sherlock cleared his throat and looked up a fraction. "My addiction got worse. I had to start...doing things for money. I'm not proud of it. Mycroft found me. I was high at the time but I recalled the concerned look on his face. A rare "brotherly display of affection"" Sherlock scoffed, but continued. "I hate to admit it but... I was so thankful. After years of frustration and emotional baggage, I got clean. Well...clean enough to survive on my own. He set me up in a flat, this one, actually. Something still didn't seem right, though. Something was empty inside me. A hole no "7% solution" could fill, if you will". Sherlock paused to roll his eyes at how pathetically poetic that sounded, but stopped when it reminded him of John and his romanticizing. He smiled instead. "That was until a single army doctor stumbled into my life, uttering mundane little "Fantastic"'s and "Amazing"'s".

John tried not to blush, repeating his mantra of "I'm not gay. I'm not gay. I'm not gay".

"This flat finally felt like home. I wasn't lonely anymore. I wasn't a...freak. I... thank you, John." Sherlock finished, looking at John's blue eyes. Sherlock, John noticed, wasn't sure what to do with himself.

"Oh, come here you idiot" John chuckled fondly and brought Sherlock's head down to rest on his collar bone. He ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair, enjoying the feeling of Sherlock's breath on his skin. Sherlock relaxed a little and began playing with the fluff on John's jumper. John tilted his head down to Sherlock's ear and whispered "We don't have to move Sherlock. I think the clutter's growing on me anyway". He felt Sherlock's smile.

John gently pulled them until they were laying down, Sherlock using John's chest as a pillow. He grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned on the TV to watch crap telly. It was nothing but white noise to them- they much rather preferred the feel of each other's heartbeats and the comfort of their intertwined legs.

Yep. No one was going anywhere in this "totally heterosexual" flat. They had their home in each other.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction. I love to read fanfics- it's like an escape from life, even if it is just for five minutes. I wrote this so others hopefully find their escape. Thank you for reading! Don't be afraid to comment on any mistakes I've made, they're always helpful.


End file.
